


Phoradendron, but you know it as mistletoe

by recordmachined



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: And Roger is pining, Brian is gorgeous, Christmas, Fluff, Freddie is fabulous as usual, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Mistletoe, Mutual Pining, Pining, Set in the late 70s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 13:22:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17224838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/recordmachined/pseuds/recordmachined
Summary: Roger is pining. Freddie gives him mistletoe.





	Phoradendron, but you know it as mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> I struggled to get this story out of my system. Once the idea popped into my head, I couldn't shake it off. After about a million edits, this is the result. I still have mixed feelings about it but eh, it's Christmas and I just wanted an excuse to write the boys pining.

It's was almost ten o'clock, there was a slight dusting of snow beginning to fall outside, and Roger was uncharacteristically grumpy.

They were all cramped up in Freddie's lavish apartment for a Christmas party. Not that Freddie ever needed an excuse to throw a party, but the festive mood was infectious, and it gave him a chance to be a touch extravagant than usual. Along with all the customary Christmas embellishments, there was an overabundance of glitter and silver tinsel. Freddie himself was strutting about wearing nothing but shimmering silver trousers and deep green cloak wrapped around his shoulders. A shiny crown was perched on his head because he deemed Santa hats to be too pedestrian for him.

The house was bustling with people, and everyone was either drunk or halfway there, joyful laughter and cheers floating around.

Which was probably why a moody Roger was a rare sight to behold.

By now, he should have been delightfully tipsy, flitting about the room like the social butterfly he usually was. Instead, he sat slumped against the sofa cushions with his shoulders hunched, half-heartedly sipping on his fourth glass of whiskey, while staring at a certain guitarist from across the room.

Brian was leaning against the fireplace, chatting with a blonde woman he didn't recognise. Roger must have been staring at them for a good ten minutes, which would have been more than enough to unsettle anyone else. But not Brian. Curse him and his ability to give his conversational partner his complete and undivided attention.

Clenching his jaw, Roger looked away, trying to simmer down his envy.

He could easily find someone else as a distraction. But it was getting increasingly difficult for him to have a go with anyone else without spending the entire time thinking about Brian.

Talented, intelligent, kind and generous Brian with his ridiculous curls, shy smiles and heart of gold.

Roger groaned to himself. This wasn't merely a fleeting physical attraction that he could get over with a quick shag. He fucking adored Brian. He wanted Brian to look at him the way he looked at the stars. He wanted to hold Brian's hand whenever he pleased. He wanted to wake up next to Brian every morning.

He wanted all of this with a fervency that was so new to him that it knocked the wind out of his lungs and left his heart pounding. The realisation that he had probably fallen in love with his best friend left him equal parts ecstatic and terrified.

He was dragged out of his thoughts when Freddie sauntered over and plonked himself next to him with a dramatic sigh.

"What's up, Fred?" Roger asked with a small smile. No matter how low-spirited he was, he could always manage a smile for Freddie.

Freddie raised an eyebrow. "I should be the one asking you that. I came here to dispel the thundercloud that's been looming in my living room, precisely right above your pretty head."

Roger's smile fell, and he pouted, looking away. Freddie followed his gaze and spotted Brian across the living room, still chatting with the cute blonde. He clicked his tongue, and a knowing smirk spread across his lips.

"It's not like you to be pining, darling," Freddie observed.

Roger feigned nonchalance. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, come off it, Roger," Freddie swatted his arm. "Your moping has started making me lose my sleep. How come you haven't gone there and claimed your prize like you normally do?"

"It's not that simple, Fred," Roger sighed. "Besides, he's not a prize to be won," he added with unexpected sincerity.

Freddie's eyes widened as he regarded Roger's longing expression. "Darling, you've got it bad," he cooed at Roger. "Why don't you just tell him then?"

"I thought--I mean, I want to but..." Roger trailed off, waving his hand in Brian's direction.

"You're a complete idiot," Freddie scoffed. "You're going to let heels and cheap lipstick over there stop you?"

"I can't fuck this up." Roger realised he sounded a little helpless. He ducked his head, hiding his face from Freddie.

Freddie threw an arm around his shoulders, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "Oh, ye of little faith. You won't fuck this up."

Roger turned to meet Freddie's gaze as they shared a thoughtful glance. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, darling," said Freddie, mysteriously. "I'm not saying anything more," he added, shaking his head. "You boys are always telling me not to interfere. But," he paused, his eyes growing wide and mischievous, "I have something that may just help."

Roger rolled his eyes. "Didn't you just say you don't want to interfere?"

"Your words, darling, not mine. Now, do you want my help or not?"

Roger eyed him uncertainly. Freddie's ideas of helping were convoluted at best and almost always served the purpose of his own personal amusement. He briefly glanced at Brian again, who was laughing at something the woman said and felt a pang in his chest. He turned back to Freddie with a resigned sigh. "All right, let's hear it then."

Freddie brought his hands together with a gleeful squeal before reaching into the folds of his cloak. He drew something out and pressed it onto Roger's palm. When Roger saw what it was, he let out an incredulous huff of laughter. "Mistletoe? What are we, children?"

"To be honest, Rog, yes," Freddie said shooting him a withering glare. "Now go there, hold it over his head and snog the life out of him, before someone else does." With a kiss on his cheek for luck, Freddie pushed Roger from the sofa and towards Brian. Roger stumbled, grumbling under his breath as shoved the sprig of mistletoe into his jacket pocket before slowly walking towards Brian.

His stomach flipped, and his palms felt moist. He gulped and wiped them on his jeans, willing himself to calm down. He realised he needed liquid courage if he was to carry on with the stupid idea and detoured towards the bar. He poured himself a couple of shots, wincing when his throat burned and then poured himself a glass of whiskey.

He was halfway through it and pleasantly buzzed when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around, and his heart nearly leapt out of his chest.

Brian was leaning against the bar, with a casual sort of grace that only Brian seemed to possess. He was wearing a white shirt with a black waistcoat and tight black trousers. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing far too much skin for Roger's synapses to handle. A red sash was tied around his slim waist, the ends hanging loosely against his thighs. Freddie's handiwork, Roger thought and reminded himself to thank the singer later.

In all honesty, Brian looked good enough to eat.

As their eyes met, Brian quirked his lips in the familiar way he always did when he saw Roger. Roger's breath caught, and he was pretty sure there was a stupid blush on his face, which was most definitely not from the alcohol.

"What are you doing here all alone, Rog?" Brain asked.

"Drinking," Roger hiccuped and then mentally wanted to slap himself.

Brian snorted. "I can see that."

"You want one?" Roger asked and started to pour him a glass anyway.

"Umm, sure." Brian accepted his drink, and they clinked their glasses, not breaking eye contact when they took a sip. Roger felt a surge of heat course through him. He could feel the weight of the mistletoe in his pocket and wondered if now was the best time to bring out the pesky plant.

"You're in an odd mood today," Brian noted after a moment of silence.

Roger quirked an eyebrow at him. "What makes you say that?"

"You've barely spoken a word to anyone all night, and you've been frowning hard enough to give yourself a headache."

Roger swallowed thickly. So, he had noticed after all.

Shrugging off Brian's concern was perhaps the easiest thing to do. But Brian was looking at him in a way that made him feel like he was the only one in the room. Roger couldn't look away even if he wanted to nor could he possibly imagine lying to Brian.

"There's been a lot on my mind," he confessed, feeling braver. The alcohol and Brian's solid presence were slowly disarming his defences.

"Anything I can help with?" Brian implored, and Roger bit his lower lip. Brian sensed his hesitation because he leaned closer and laid a hand on his shoulder. "You know you can talk to me, Rog."

Warmth spread from the point of contact down his body, right down to his toes. He allowed himself a smile and brought his own hand to rest atop the one on his shoulder. "I know, Bri," he whispered.

They stood staring at each other, and Roger could see Brian's hazel eyes flashing with anticipation. He was gripped with the urge to take Brian's face in his hands, and snog him senseless. A hopeful part of his brain told him that Brian wanted this too. But he needed to be sure.

With a shaky hand, Roger reached into his pocket for the mistletoe.

A loud crash across the living room made them jump apart, and both whipped their heads towards the source of the noise. Someone had tripped over the coffee table and taken a tumble. No injuries, just a small bump on the knee and the room soon erupted with drunken giggles.

Roger blinked owlishly at Brian, heart hammering in his chest and a little dazed from their moment. A small frown had settled on Brian's brow and the openness that he face had held seconds ago disappeared. Roger's heart sank a little, and he suddenly felt out of breath. With a rushed, "I need some air," Roger hurried out without a backward glance.

 

 

The night air was cold, creeping under his jacket as he rubbed his palms together to keep his fingers from numbing. A thin layer of snow covered the ground as Roger walked further into the back garden. He could hear the faint chatter and laughter coming from the house behind him. He tilted his head up and regarded the cloudy sky. Light snow was falling, some sticking to his reddened nose.

Roger breathed in deeply, the frigid air helping him calm his buzzing head. He ran an exasperated hand through his hair, cursing himself under his breath. Just as he was about to begin wallowing in self-pity, he heard the soft crunching of shoes against the snow.

He turned around to find Brian standing a few feet away, face full of concern and something else he couldn't quite place. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, and there were tiny flakes of snow getting caught in his curls.

Roger's heart grew around three sizes bigger at the sight of him.

"Why'd you run away?" Brian asked, his breath coming out in a puff of smoke.

Roger shrugged. "I needed some air," he repeated dumbly and glanced away.

There was more crunching of shoes against the snow, and Roger felt the warm presence of Brian behind him. "I was hoping we could continue where we left off," Brian whispered softly before coming around to stand in front of him.

Roger stepped back, eyes widening. "You mean...," he trailed off, simply staring at Brian.

Brian grinned at him, all teeth and crinkled eyes. He stepped closer, pressing their bodies together. "You were going to tell me what's on your mind," he teased.

Roger felt his face go hot. He cleared his throat nervously before a shy smile made its way onto his lips. "I was actually going to show you something."

Brian cocked an eyebrow in amusement. "Oh?"

Roger reached into his pocket once more and drew out the little plant, holding it in his hand.

"What is it?" Brian narrowed his eyes curiously, bending down to get a closer look.

"It's Phoradendron," Roger replied and watched as Brian's face adorably scrunched up in confusion. "But you know it as mistletoe." He opened his palm, showing him the little sprig.

He sensed Brian take a sharp breath as he stood looking at the mistletoe in his palm. "It's not really something you give another people, is it?" Brian asked slowly.

"I suppose it isn't," said Roger, trembling a little. He was about to raise his arm and dangle it over their heads when Brian snatched it from his hand. "Hey, give it back!" He exclaimed.

Brian laughed as he waved his hands around, dodging away from Roger's prying fingers. When Brian stretched his hand up, holding the mistletoe above their heads, Roger pushed himself on the tips of his toes, trying and failing to reach for it. Pouting in defeat, his eyes traced back to Brian's face, who was staring him intensely.

It was only then Roger realised their current position.

His mouth fell open mid gasp before a soft huff of breath skittered across his face, and then something warm covered his lips. His mind went blissfully blank and tingles shot through his body from where Brian's lips touched his.

Brian stepped away after a few moments, face flushed and pink lips parted. "This is what you wanted to tell me, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Roger whispered shakily. "God, Bri, you have no idea how long--"

"I think I do," Brian said, cutting him off and rubbing their noses together.

Roger wasted no time in cupping Brian's face his hands and pressing their lips together once more. Brian responded in kind, one arm coming around his waist and the other tangling in his blonde hair. Roger let his own fingers thread through Brian's curls, clutching tightly as he nibbled on Brian's lower lip. A moan ripped through Brian's throat, and he tipped his head to one side, deepening the kiss.

Roger felt his knees go weak and let himself be kissed thoroughly, as he had never before.

When they parted, gasping for air, Roger buried his face into Brian's neck. He felt a kiss being pressed into his hair and smiled, Brian's hair tickling his nose.

"Everything all right?" Brian asked, drawing away to peer into his eyes. "You look a bit overcome," he added, smiling brightly.

Roger would have melted into the snow if it had not been for Brian's arms that were holding him tightly. He nodded before drawing close and kissing that smile, quick and chaste.

"Everything is perfect, Bri."

 

 

_a few months later_

Roger had been rummaging through the bookshelf for something when one of the books suddenly shifted a fell to the ground. He jumped off the stool to pick it up and recognised it was one of Brian's books on the universe.

With a fond smile, he began flipping through it. A soft gasp escaped his lips when he noticed, that nestled among the slightly yellowed pages, was the small sprig of mistletoe. It was brown and wilted, but it was the very same one.

Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, Roger was tracing his fingers over the dried leaves when Brian walked in. For a second his eyes went wide before he smiled sheepishly.

Gingerly placing the mistletoe back within the pages, Roger skipped over to Brian, falling into his open arms.

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? I have another fic in the works; it's going to be AU set in the Victorian era. Is something people want to read? Lemme know!
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are my life's blood. Happy New Year, folks! xx


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